#thieram

[moonlightshaiku]

You're Nicer When You Drink

Silco x Reader

Word Count: 1620

Warnings: Dissociation, Angst

Ao3: Here!

Notes:

What is your reason for living? What do you do when you feel like you're going to fade away?

Tag List: N/A

While Singed and Silco insisted it was multiple personalities, you preferred another view. You’d been visiting Babette’s, talking with her and her workers. Babette was very understanding, happy to run errands and leave you and some of her workers alone to discuss the working of your minds. 

It was this weekend that you’d spoken to someone new. She was older than most, loud, took up space. But when she sat in front of you she seemed to drift off. She sat in her chair and her edges blended with the curtains behind her. Her eyes were dark, and only that. She would only scan the room when you didn’t look at her, her only movements minute and almost invisible unless you looked for them.

“What we have,” she said in an even tone, never looking at your face, “is not multiple personalities.” You’d asked what she’d meant. She got up to grab a shot of something from the cart behind Babette’s desk. They were so plain, you noticed, her movements. Silco swayed and wrapped his fingers around his glasses oddly. Grabbed the decanter with one hand from the very bottom as he guided with his other hand on the neck.

She just grabbed a shot. 

When she sat, she didn’t take a sip, just stared off again. “In order to have a personality, you need to have a consistent consciousness, a past, an awareness of yourself. We have none of that. We aren’t real, not like other people are.”

She’d left not long thereafter. And it stuck with you.

You watched each of your own movements. Saw how unsettling it was as you blended in with whatever curtains were behind you. 

You watched Jinx. How her body flowed around her surroundings like a child’s train running around a Piltover beach. The way she held objects and moved them with a slight bounce. You knew she could feel herself dying, you could feel the ropes in your chest, too. But she knew how to live. How to be real. It was second nature to her, and you had no idea where to start. 

When your sentences finished, you became the background of a room. You died, lost whatever tied you to reality for other people, until they looked at you again. 

Silco was too real. He was real in sharp edges and tensed shoulders. In barks and demands. It set you on edge. 

You realized as you sat in his office again, why it was so easy for him to let you use this room as a safe haven, even as he conducted meetings. It’s all you could focus on, how you would just blend into the background.

You wondered if you were allowed to scream. What would happen if you did. And then you pictured the woman from the brothel again, the way she was real until she sat and breathed. And then she didn’t exist fully anymore. 

Silco was more affectionate the more you avoided him.

He became less real the more time you spent apart from him, he drank more. It became easier to bear the weight of his existence when you only talked across from him, staring at his large-backed chair, three shots in.

He asked again and again what was wrong, if he could fix it. But it was only as he sipped his bourbon. He left you to rot when he sobered up.

Sevika looked at you with pity when she woke you up each morning. You’d been late for a few days, unable to raise yourself from bed, so she’d taken on the responsibility. She didn’t speak to you much anymore, but the look of pity was enough. You’d feared that look, because you knew the day you got it, it meant you’d lost her. She was too real for you to get to her now. Or you were floating too far away for her to reach you. 

Jinx didn’t visit. You were sure she was busy, or something. 

One day she did visit, and quickly caught on. She punched your shoulder lightly. “What’s got your titties in a twist, toots?” She’d asked. You don’t remember what you’d said, or if you responded at all. But she left, still playful even as her footsteps softened. Floating somewhere else. 

Thieram didn’t speak to you until it’d been weeks without you going on a job. You hadn’t even realized how long it’d been. Even as you thought back, it didn’t make sense. 

Thieram was easier to talk to. He was real, but not too real.

He set something in front of you, and you sipped it without question. It was thick, chocolatey. “Did… uh, did you know that chocolate gives you dopamine?” And you felt yourself laugh. It was too breathy. You wish you could laugh harder, feel it burn your neck and chest.

“Drugging me into happiness, Thieram?”

He gave a nervous laugh and shrugged. You picked up your glass so he could wipe the counter under it. 

“When did you last eat?” He asks, grabbing a packet of crackers from under the counter. They were always given to patrons that got just a little too drunk. You’d once seen Sevika shove the crackers one-by-one into the mouth of a slim girl that had a panic attack after being thrown around too much in the crowd.

It had worked. Or maybe the girl was too busy drooling over Sevika. You couldn’t blame her.

You placed the crackers into your mouth slowly. You couldn’t feel the crackers in your mouth, or the pressure as you chewed, but you could feel them clog up your throat. You drank and drank to get the feeling out, but it held steady, making you heavy and foggy again. 

“What’s been up with you, anyway?” He asks. He’s just leaning on the counter, now. Cleaning and counting done.

You shrug. “I don’t feel real. Do I… exist?”

Thieram shrugs. “As much as you ever have.”

You look at the counter. “I think that’s the problem. I don’t think I’ve ever existed.”

He sighs deeply. “Do you have a reason to live? Like, family or something?”

You shake your head, and he gives you the same look Sevika does. You realize it’s not pity. You feel a little more real. “I think my reason for living has been being alive.”

He rubs his hands down the front of his shirt. “Well, there’s your problem. That’s surviving. And, in my opinion? Barely that. Do you have any reason to live?”

You pause. “It should be Silco. And Jinx.”

“It’s not?”

You shake your head again, take a sip of your drink. “I don’t think I even know what a reason to live is supposed to look like. Or be.”

He hums. “I mean, most people say family, or revenge, or making up for mistakes.”

You run a hand down your face. “But it has to be more than that. None of that applies to me. All of that is shallow, and stupid, and doesn’t make sense.”

Thieram nods. “I mean, yeah. I’m sure there’s more to it, people just don’t really have the words to put to it.”

“Who will? Have the words, I mean?”

Thieram’s eyes drift up the stairs, and you shake your head. 

“I’m not talking to Silco.”

“Can I say something kinda shitty?”

“Go for it.”

He lets out a big sigh. “I think you owe it to him, to be honest.”

You nod. “I do. I just… my words won’t be enough. And instead of getting more words the longer I wait, I lose them. And now I’ve waited too long. I’ve lost them all.”

He takes your drink and rinses it out, scrubbing it dry with a towel. You can see he’s thinking, the stillness in his shoulders comforting. “I think you not having words is part of the problem. And he’ll see that. He’s smart.”

“He’s too real.” You blurt. “He’s so real it hurts. And you’d think it’s jealousy, but I’m jealous of Jinx. She’s… so real. And I want her kind of real. I don’t want Silco’s kind of real. He’s sharp, and rude, and so, so intense.”

Thieram is always so still when he thinks, and always leans his head towards the floor. You can see him doing it now. The way he thinks is so visual you can feel it in your chest, and you can’t help but sit in silence. Hold quiet respect for his soft voice. The almost motherly whisper that leaves him when he speaks in private. “I don’t have an answer for that.” He says finally, his shoulders dropping and his movement continuing. 

You nod, solemn, and push yourself off your barstool. You can feel the weight of your feet on the ground. You’re realer. “I’ll just rip the bandaid off, then.”

Thieram jokingly salutes you, his uncomfortable smile so forced it's goofy and shows too much of his gums. You huff. 

Silco’s office is colder than it usually is, and it allows the fog to come a little bit closer. Not just the cold, but the energy of the room. Silco seems so faded. You want to hold him until he’s so real you need to throw up. You want to fix it, but there’s not enough of you to do that. 

He gestures to the chair at the opposite end of his desk, he seems limp. You head for the cart on the other side of his room. Pour two shots. Four fingers each. Then you sit.

“I still have work to do.” He says. 

“I need to talk to you.” You reply. 

“Why is alcohol needed?” He asks.

“You’re nicer when you drink.” You answer.

[cimw]

Teamwork

[the-broken-truth]

The One She Left Behind - Platonic Yandere Sevika w/ Biological Son Reader [1]

Broken (Looking at a HexTech Crystal in my claws): I looked around and it said that Sevika is between 30 and 40. Based on this information, She got pregnant at 20 and abandoned the child with its father. Now, at her current age, she is in the Last Drop when she sees a face she never thought she would see again. Now, let the words weave together. Also, sorry I was gone for a while - I just needed a break.

[The Last Drop]

This was the life Sevika lived - Fighting, Drinking, Playing Cards, and being the Right Hand of the Eye of Zaun himself with the pay she was getting; she was living the good life, well, as good as life could be in the Undercity. She was currently in the Last Drop - a bar in Silco's Territory - in her usual booth with a cigar in her hand while she was playing cards with some other grunts on Silco's Payroll. Thieram was quick to make Sevika's drink before bringing it to her while she kicked ass in cards - she was living the good life...but there were sometimes when she thought about the life she had before Silco. Sevika blew smoke out of her mouth as she thought about the life she left behind and the life she left behind, not her life, but the life she created with the man she once loved.

"Sevika, you can't be serious. You're going to leave me? Leave us? To work for the Eye of Zaun?! Don't you know how dangerous he is and the company he keeps? You're willing to abandon everything we created for him?!" The Dark Skinned Zaunite Male yelled at Sevika's back as he held the crying bundle in his arms.

"I told you - this isn't the life I want. I want adventure, power, and money, and working for Silco will give me everything I am looking for. Just keep that kid far away from me and have a good life without me." Sevika said as she started walking away with her hands in her pockets while listening to the man she once loved shushing the infant.

"Don't cry, my son. Father is going to take care of you from now on - you won't be alone ever again and I'll make sure you aren't tainted by that life. I won't let Sevika taint you." The Zaunite said as he held the infant close to his face and hugged him, placing his nose on the infant's forehead, and giving him a gentle kiss on his forehead to quiet him. That was the last time she saw them and she never looked back.

Sometimes, Sevika would think back to that night - she wouldn't think about the man she once loved but she did think about her son: Was he still alive? What did he look like? Was he healthy? What did he do now? Did his father raise him properly? Sevika would walk down the street while running errands for Silco and see children running down the streets of Zaun and see them with their parents, she couldn't help but wonder how her life would have been if she kept her son, raised him into being a Son of Zaun. Sevika would push the thoughts down before continuing on her path.

The sound of the door opening pulled Sevika out of her thoughts and watched as a tall figure walked in with a leather satchel over their shoulder, a brown cloth cloak with their hood up, and from what Sevika could see, black pants with black leather boots - all in rather good condition; where did they get those items? The material was from Zaun but it looked so good that she thought it could come from Piltover. Sevika watched the stranger walk into the center of the bar before pulling the hood off their head and Sevika's eyes widened: The stranger was male, with dark skin, short dark brown hair, and calm brown eyes. He had a scar over his eyebrow but he looked just like her former loving but with her eyes - was he...

"[Name], you're here." Thieram said as he walked from around the counter and walked over to the tall male who smiled at him before opening the satchel and pulling out a box before handing it to Thieram.

"Sorry for being late, I had to make sure all the systems worked perfectly and wouldn't overheat after hours of usage." The taller male - [Name] - said before handing the box to Thieram who smiled, took the box before reaching into his pocket, and pulled out a small sack of Silver Cogs and handing it to [Name], who looked in the sack before closing it, pocketed the sack and shook hands with Thieram.

"How's your father?" Thieram asked as he tucked the box under his arm.

"Father is doing better than he was last week, he's still a little stressed but his blood pressure is going down. I'm having him relax more while I run errands." [Name] explained before he pulled his hood over his head, "I'll see you later, Thieram." He said before he turned on his heel and walked away, opening the door and walking out of the Last Drop. Sevika watched the male before getting up from her chair and followed after him.

Sevika looked at the flowing cloak of the young man before walking up to him, stopping a few feet away when he stopped walking and took a deep exhale before turning to face Sevika.

"Is there a reason you are following me?" [Name] asked as he pulled the hood off his head again and glared at Sevika with his brown eyes - eyes that matched her own when she was angered; he was a perfect reflection of her, just as the opposite gender.

"I noticed you in the Last Drop. You said your name was [Name], correct?" Sevika asked.

"What business is it of yours?" [Name] raised an eyebrow. That attitude - just like hers when she was his age.

"Tell me, [Name], who is your father?" Sevika asked. [Name] scoffed at Sevika, causing her to raise her eyebrow higher.

"Don't ask dumb questions that you already know the answer to, Sevika. You know my father because you abandoned him years ago, you know who I am and that's why you followed me out of the Last Drop. Why don't you go back with those drunks and return to playing cards?" [Name] suggested.

"You shouldn't speak to your mother like that." Sevika really went there - she played that card - making [Name] bear his teeth, surprisingly he had perfect fangs.

"You don't have the right o youse that title. You are no mother, you are a deserter, a betrayer, and a whore. I want nothing to do with you, so stay the hell away from me or I'm going to break you." [Name] snarled before turning on his heel and marched down the street while Sevika stood there with wide eyes and a smirk on her face. Her son was no pushover - speaking to the Right Hand of the Eye of Zaun like that. It was good to see he inherited her strong spirit but she wondered what else he inherited from her. She was going to have to find out in the coming days, but first, she needed to find out where he lived.

'Time for an investigation.' Sevika thought as she turned on her heel and returned to the Last Drop.

[To Be Continued In 2]

[whitestopper]

[thieramsdiary]

Thieram

Man just wants to bartend in PEACE

cc: cozy (mine)

scp: akob3ll (tiktok)

text: coolvectia, arcane nine

🎧: banana shake by humming urban stereo

[inthebrainofalamb]

THIERAM SAYS HIS OWN NAME IN THE CHUCK SCENE WHY DO WE ALL CALL HIM CHUCK

[jordieeeee]

My first thoughts while watching Jinx, Ekko and the people joining the fight in the finale: CHUCK??

[yes-these-obsessions-are-healthy]

Someone was finally brave enough to say what was hella long overdue about the bartender Thieram

[ironandglass]

Is this Thieram/Chuck?

This is from the official s2 trailer

I'd be sorry and ashamed of the low quality but I'm not. Someone else with better access and skill can CSI enhance this shit.

[typewriteringalaxy]

Silco's crew enjoying themselves on the beach from @the-blue-quetzalcoatl 's fic "Sea and Sand" (minus Lock, who's at the juice bar)

[username-redacted205]

“Last Orders” by Usern4me_R3dacted205

Summary:

"Thieram couldn’t remember the last time he’d thought working at The Last Drop was anything more than a thankless job. At least until tonight."

Following a brutal showdown leaving The Last Drop in tatters, the lowly barkeep Thieram finds himself serving one last round to a certain blue-haired trickster who seems a little less like her usual self than usual...

OR: A what-if scenario exploring what happened to good ol' Chuck after that epic fight at the end of S1 E9.

READ HERE: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60722068

———————————————————————

Behold my first one-shot! 🥳🎉🥳🎉

This is something I've been working on and off for a while and I definitely didn't mean for this to be finished after Season 2 dropped, especially so close to Act III. Procrastination's a bitch, y'know? Luckily though it doesn't seem as if anything from Acts I and II technically overrides what I've written here so this is still totally plausible in my mind (I swear!). Anyhoo, I hope this helps lift the post-finale blues a little. Enjoy!

[riza-hawks-eye]

How many episodes will Chuck appear in, and why is it all of them?

[sinclair-enterprises]

Arcane 3:10 To Yuma AU 1/?

Ekko kicked through the entrance to The Last Drop, the saloon doors swinging wildly as he briskly strode inside.

“Smeech!” The name reverberated in throughout the silent establishment. It was then that Ekko noticed the venue was surprisingly empty. Typically around noon there'd be at least some of the local rail workers sitting around chewing peanuts and chugging down whiskey with their spare company pay. Now, though, the saloon was devoid of any inhabitants. The slimy businessman had said he would be here. Where was he?

A quick survey of the room revealed tables and chairs set up to accommodate the Last Drop's usual clientele. Ekko noted glasses half empty left next to cheap playing cards, the latter spread out as if the players had just been there. The bar itself was also left unattended, an unthinkable occurrence given the steely professionalism drilled into the staff by the establishment's upper management.  Quite simply, the whole thing felt off. The sudden opening of a door from somewhere behind and above him immediately put him on alert, although it was only at the sound of a very familiar voice that the hair at the back of his head stood on end.

"Look a little bent, rancher."

Ekko furiously whirled around, shotgun aimed at the upper floor of the saloon from where the sultry words had been uttered.  

The sight of bright blue hair neatly kept in its usual twin braids all but confirmed the presence of the morning's unwanted interloper. Blue eyes gazed down at him from a lightly freckled face stretched out into a rather characteristic feral grin.

"You here to wake some snakes?"

It was then that movement behind her caused Ekko to refocus and notice the sheepish form of the Last Drop's current bartender in the midst of hurriedly buttoning up his shirt. Thieram, something or other. Not that Ekko had ever paid him much attention. Now the rancher noted the barkeep's disheveled appearance, so at odds with his usual carefully tailored countenance. The younger man shrank back from Ekko's scrutiny, a blush blooming on his flushed cheeks. From the corner of his eyes the rancher noticed Jinx's grin growing wider.

Ah.

"Uh, you want something to drink, sir?" the bartender asked hesitantly.

"No thanks," Ekko replied without looking at Thieram. His eyes tracked the blue-haired gunslinger as she moved to go downstairs. Her gun belt and holster were swiftly strapped on as she softly made her way down the steps, signature white bowler hat set on her head only once she'd reached eye level with him.

Ekko remained silent. His eyes hardened as Jinx sauntered towards the bar. Distantly he noted the irregular metallic clicking of her spurs hitting the hardwood floor.

"You got your horses back, didn'tcha? And your cattle?"

He backed up a couple steps, hands holding tightly to the shotgun at his waist. As if it would do him any good.

"Yeah, I got my horses back. But you killed two of my herd."

Jinx stopped within arm's reach of Ekko, leaning against the bar while she straightened out her ruffled vest. Her eyes issued a silent challenge as she unflinchingly returned his stare.

"Hell, they died for a good cause."

Her flippant remark only caused him to narrow his eyes further.

Jinx rolled her eyes and threw her head back in exasperation.

"Alright, alright. But you know, them beeves of yours... they wouldn't even have fed a hungry dog. Tell you what-" here she slid an assortment of coins at him from a white leather pouch-"that should cover it?"

Ekko continued to regard her in silence.

"How much you get for a day's work, Ekko?"

"Two dollars, when I hire out," he responded.

"Well, there's two dollars for half a day."

Two more dollar coins slid his way across the bar.

He hesitated slightly before forcing himself to pocket the money, the metal feeling unusually cool in his hands.

From the corner of his eye he noticed a shadow passing across one of the windows. The unmistakable silhouette of a Winchester flitted over the saloon's translucent curtains.

They know she's here.

He looked sharply back to Jinx, who had turned her attention to the many bottles decorating the wall. No doubt she was wondering which one to make off with. Completely oblivious. A part of Ekko tugged at him to warn her, to hide her from the crooked local sheriff and his loathsome deputies like they did for each other when they were little. But they weren't kids anymore, and she was the furthest thing from his friend. Even if the law wasn't all it was cracked up to be in Bisbee, she would still face what she deserved.

But does she deserve it?

Ekko grit his teeth.

"You took up my boy's time, too," he said harshly.

Jinx turned back to him, chewing thoughtfully on her tongue.

"You're right. I did."

The clinking of metal preceded the appearance of a further two dollar coins on the weathered bar countertop. Jinx slid them over more forcefully, eyes trained on Ekko's face the entire time. He slowly gathered up the money and pocketed it as well.

By this time Thieram had made it halfway down the steps, his nervous eyes flicking between the gunslinger and the rancher. Ekko refused to acknowledge him.

The rancher's attention was called back to Jinx as she pulled on her overcoat.

"Anything else you wanna get paid for, Ekko?" she asked bemusedly.

"Give me five dollars extra."

Jinx huffed and crossed her arms.

"And what's that for?"

"For makin' me nervous."

She shook her head tiredly and was on the point of responding when the loud cocking of a gun made her freeze.

"Hands up, outlaw."

[naiad-r]

The rituals are intricate and the pianist is the one constructing a lot of them.

[kingpins-and-revolutions]

@jackalmeat

1 good reason: Thieram has suffered not only a solid punch to the face from Vander in the cannery, but also has to deal with Jinx being an absolute hellion to him on a daily basis (and we can assume Silco does nothing about it).

The man deserves something nice for once, aside from a (probably) decent paycheck from the Eye of Zaun.

I'm looking forward to it :3

somebody give me one (1) good reason why I shouldn't write/draw a thing about Viktor rizzing the almighty hell out of Thieram Chuck, bearing in mind the caveat that "that's self-indulgent and also completely stupid" isn't a good enough reason to stop me even if it's true

[libertastandem]

IT'S CHUCK